What is Real
by HeyMazara
Summary: Harry Potter wakes up, 17 years old and at no 4 Privet Drive like everyday cursing his existence. He's off to school and work but something feels different about today. And then a strange man runs into him telling him to "wake up" and suddenly Harry wants to know what from and why it suddenly feels so important. Not AU.
1. Chapter 1

What is Real

Summary: Harry Potter wakes up, 17 years old and at no 4 Privet Drive like everyday cursing his existence. He's off to school and work but something feels different about today. And then a strange man runs into him telling him to "wake up" and suddenly Harry wants to know what from and why it suddenly feels so important. Not AU.

Author's Note: I had this idea that I got from a ridiculous place but here it is. I'm not sure what's going to happen or anything if there's anything you'd like to see let me know.

I do have a question: would you guys like to see a romance? I'm all for it and stuff but I don't know who to pair harry with. I was thinking Snape or Malfoy maybe, I'm all for slash too lol, but I can do het if you'd rather read that. Lemme know okay, here we go...!

* * *

"How much time do we have?"

"I don't know, not much."

"What if—"

"He won't, he'll come back. He has to."

"What if he—"

"He will Ron, he will, and we're going to help him."

* * *

Harry sat up his head pulsing as always. His mind felt blank for a moment like he was in some type of trance or dream. A shiver coursed up his spine rocking his entire body like a wave. And then it was over. He stifled a groan as the fog cleared and stumbled out of his stupidly small bed and tried to avoid stumbling down the stairs. He ran a messy hand through his hair glared uselessly at the clock that reads 5:00 AM by the door.

Harry pours himself a cup of coffee and if it tastes more like chalk and less like coffee than usual he doesn't pay it any mind.

He starts fixing breakfast and has long since figured out that the faster he can get in and get out without making any contact with his relatives the better it is for everyone.

As he starts out the door he notices it's raining. Harry sighs and pulls his down over his floppy hair and doesn't even try to wipe the water off his glasses. After what seems like too long he's reached the bus stop and takes a seat on the bench. There's a man next to him wearing a grim expression and reading the daily newspaper.

He keeps looking over at Harry and Harry avoids the darkness of his eyes. There's always weirdos out and about this early in the morning so he doesn't pay the man much mind, but there is something threateningly dark about his eyes that he's already trying to forget.

And then the bus is here and he's got his tokens out and he really has forgotten about the man and his black eyes and his unthreatening newspaper.

"This is better than we could have hoped for."

"Yes it does appear to be working."

"We can't underestimate him again though, the boy may be an idiot but he is strong."

He's at his university in a bit and classes and faces pass like he's driving by them and they're trees whipping out of his range in a blur. If you asked him to recall something about what he learned or what he said to the blond girl in his biology class about dissecting frogs, he couldn't remember. But it's like that every day and he just wishes it was over, so when his final class is actually over he doesn't think about it too hard.

It's finally stopped raining and the sidewalks are still damp but Harry's just grateful that he can see. So it's a bit of a surprise when he's knocked down by a stranger on the completely uncrowded sidewalk. It seems to be a man and he's tumbling down with him. The stranger stops to gather the folders he was carrying and Harry helps him retrieve the papers that went flying.

"I'm awfully sorry about that." Harry says and offers him a sheepish smile.

The man has cold face and serious features. He has black greasy looking hair and is dressed in black dress pants and a black dress shirt. His nose is knobby and he looks unsure and Harry misses the absent minded thought that he has that this is a man that never looks unsure. Everything about this man is raven black except for his skin, which is pale and almost grey. His grey lips are moving and Harry almost misses his words.

"Wake up."

And then he's gone. Almost like he disappeared. He's just gone and Harry is getting a headache again. His head is pounding and so is his heart and he has no idea why.

* * *

There's a man with black hair and black eyes and pale skin and his eyes focus suddenly and his breathing is heavy.

"Severus?"

"It will take time Albus."

"We don't have much to spare."

"This depends on him."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Harry couldn't get that man out of his head for the rest of the week which really made no sense if he were to sit down and ponder this sudden infatuation. He had been of average height, build, his eyes and hair were unusually black but having black hair and eyes was hardly something that would have kept him awake at night under normal circumstances.

"Harry, mate, get your head in the game!" Someone was shouting at him and dragging him from his thoughts and it was like he was being jerked back into reality with a force he wasn't prepared to face.

It was his friend Roddie, they were in their physical education class, and they were playing football. Right. He ran toward the ball and kicked it hard. It flew up as if it were trying to get to a place much higher than the goal. There was a weird moment where Harry could almost imagine that the clouds were shaped like rings and that the ball was flying toward them. It should have been an easy goal. He was usually decent at football…

"Harry! What's up man? You alright?" Roddie said jogging up beside him.

Harry shook his messy hair out of his eyes and nodded back at him.

"Yeah sorry, I just zoned out."

"No problem it's just P.E. but, you know, focus."

Harry nodded in agreement trying to shake the fog from his mind.

* * *

"I think their hold on him is weakening, Minerva."

"Look how pale he is, Albus."

"I know, but Harry is a strong boy, he will pull through this."

"But in enough time?"

"Severus, as I said, their power is weakening, not much but hopefully they haven't noticed. I do believe it is time that we push."

* * *

Harry walked up to the door of Number 4 Privet Drive and he fished around for the house key in his pocket. He pushed open the door quietly and then bent down to pick up the mail.

He sorted through it, bills and adverts and normal things, and then tucked behind, the last letter was a small scroll of yellowed parchment tied off with a red ribbon. On the side scrawled in glittering ink was… his name.

_Harry Potter_

In his 17 years he very scarcely ever got mail and if so it was usually just a random advertisement from some company that mass sent adverts. And never had anything been so interesting. It was addressed to him. Wasn't it?

He reached out to finger the ribbon and a weird feeling rushed through him. Almost like… Déjà vu. But that was silly. So he deposited the other letters on the table and slipped the parchment into his pocket wordlessly and retreated silently to his room.

_This isn't real_

And those three words were so simple and it was so ridiculous but they were not an apt explanation for why Harry felt his pulse race and his chest tighten and his eyes roll back in his head. And then he was on the floor and watching the blackness eat at the corners of his eyes and at the edges of those words.

And then he blacked out.

* * *

"They've managed to get to him My Lord."

"His mind might not be able to handle it, My lord."

"That's unacceptable. I need what's inside of it."

"Dumbledore and his group have started moving toward the offensive."

"Well then… so will we."

* * *

Harry woke up the sound of his alarm clock and he threw off his blankets. His body was cold with sweat and his head was absolutely pounding. The annoying beeping was sending pain coursing from his head up and down his spine.

He had had the strangest dream. Something about darkness and running. And he had run so fast and there was a message… he couldn't remember. There was a pretty letter.

On the floor!

Harry threw himself to the floor years of pretending his didn't exist had taught him how to not make a noise. He searched blindly for the note and the message that he couldn't remember.

It wasn't there.

He laid back and rested against the frame of his bed.

Of course it wasn't there.

It was just in a dream.

* * *

**Okay please send me reviews with what you think or messages or whatever and opinions on pairings or ideas or anything! Thanks! **


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